The Kudou Files
by RanMouri82
Summary: Formerly classified scenes from the married life of Kudou Ran and Shin'ichi. *File Fourteen: Sonata: Now Conan understood what his mother meant. It was a kind of music.*
1. File One: Bad Guys?

**Author's Note:** For those unfamiliar with the Japanese series, here are the names, family name first:

Kudou Shin'ichi: Jimmy Kudo  
Mouri Ran: Rachel Moore  
Suzuki Sonoko: Serena Sebastian  
Hattori Heiji: Harley Hartwell  
Yoshida Ayumi: Amy  
Kojima Genta: George  
Tsuburaya Mitsuhiko: Mitch  
Mouri Kogorou: Richard Moore  
Kisaki Eri: Eva Kaden  
Kudou Yuusaku: Booker Kudo  
Kudou Yukiko: Vivian Kudo  
Inspector Megure: Inspector Meguire

(Spoiler names: not yet dubbed into English)  
Miyano Shiho/Haibara Ai: former member of the Black Organization/shrunken inventor of the poison that also shrunk Shin'ichi. In these vignettes, I assume that Ai has returned to her normal self as Shiho.  
Toyama Kazuha: Hattori Heiji's childhood friend, who also secretly likes him. In these vignettes, I assume she has married Heiji and shares his family name.  
Shiratori: A detective of the Beika police.  
Takagi: Another detective of the Beika police, yet of a lower rank than Shiratori.  
Satou: A female detective of the Beika police and the focus of a quasi-love triangle with Shiratori and Takagi.

As I add to this series, I'll add to the list as necessary. Any other characters will likely be my own. Since Shin'ichi and Ran are married in these vignettes, they'll share the same family name. Enjoy, and please review!

* * *

_File One: Bad Guys?_

"I'll consider taking the case, sir, but that's all I promise," said Shin'ichi.

"Well, see that you do," grunted Watanabe Shingo, the rising computer software magnate, as he exited the door of the mansion. Or rather, Watanabe _would_ be rising in the industry if he could ditch his blackmailers—a problem he hoped the renowned Detective of the East could solve. "The last thing I need to deal with are these jack-booted thugs!"

_What a pompous jerk,_ thought Shin'ichi as he recalled their conversation. The blackmail concerned Watanabe's innocent daughter, but all the man cared about was his money.

Suddenly, however, a round face appeared by Shin'ichi's knee. Blinking, the boy tugged at his pant leg and asked, "Daddy, what's a 'jack-booted thug'?"

"Hmph," huffed Shin'ichi. He leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, watching as the limousine sped into the night. "I think he just left."

"_Shin'ichi_," warned Ran, carrying the empty coffee tray into the kitchen. Gesturing toward their son with a nod of her head, she added, "I don't think that's the best way to define it."

"Seems accurate to me," replied Shin'ichi, with a smirk; but at Ran's frown, he relented. "Well, Conan," he said, kneeling to meet him at eye level, "that's just a fancy way of saying a 'bad guy'."

At that, the little mirror image of Shin'ichi balled his fists eagerly. "And we catch bad guys and bring them to justice—right, Daddy?"

As Shin'ichi paled, Ran burst into a fit of giggles.

"Uh, right," Shin'ichi muttered, ruffling Conan's hair. Coughing, he straightened, dusted himself off, and headed for the study. "I think I'll get started on that case now."


	2. File Two: She Blinded Me With Science

**Note:** See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Two: She Blinded Me with Science_

Shiho shook her head, bent over her clipboard. "My answer's still no."

"Oh, come on," Sonoko begged, leaning over the counter beside Shiho's lab experiment. She clasped her hands fervently and seemed ready to drop to her knees if Shiho refused to cave.

Ran stood opposite the counter, trying to watch from a safe distance.

With a placid expression, Shiho noted, "I would take care not to spill that beaker if I were you, Sonoko. It's filled with hydrochloric acid."

Sonoko blinked, clueless. "And that's bad?"

Ran sighed; it was not that she blamed Sonoko for trying. While watching Shiho mix chemicals in her private laboratory within the home she still shared with Professor Agasa, the thought had crossed Ran's mind many times. But Ran understood that Shiho needed space—and that any reasonable person would steer clear of crossing the boundary that Shiho strictly enforced. Unfortunately, Suzuki Sonoko was _not_ a reasonable person.

Shifting tactics, Sonoko gave Shiho a sweet smile. "Now, would it hurt to do this just _once_?" she cooed.

Shiho continued to focus on her task of scooping white powder onto a sensitive weight. "Yes, and you know that."

Frowning, Sonoko walked around the narrow counter to face Shiho squarely. "No, I _don't_ know that. Look," she paused, scanning the room for an invisible example. "Look at—how I helped Shin'ichi and Ran!"

Ran stared at Sonoko's extended finger, now pointed directly between her eyes. "Huh?"

"On that night of the school play," Sonoko crowed, her hands on her hips, "I skillfully fanned the flames of your passion."

Blushing beet red, Ran quickly mumbled, "You know, maybe we should leave Shiho alone."

"Good idea," agreed Shiho, now pouring the powder into small capsules, "because, Sonoko, I will _not_ go with your physicist friend on a date."

Sonoko pleaded, "But Hiroshi is so _cute_!"

Glancing sidelong at Sonoko, Shiho replied, "Please, try to remember that I'm older than you."

_I'd better stop Sonoko, and fast,_ Ran thought. "So, Shiho, what are you working on?" Ran chirped, in a lame attempt to change the subject.

To Ran's surprise, however, Shiho's lips suddenly curved in a Mona Lisa smile. "It's a medicine, but it should be tested first." Turning toward Sonoko with a capsule in her upturned palm, she asked, "How about you?"

"Um, no offense," Sonoko replied, with a shudder, "but I think I'll pass."

Shiho nodded, her smile broadening. "And so will I."

"Ooooh!" cried Sonoko. The disgruntled young woman flung her fists at her sides. "I'll go get some pictures of Hiroshi—and _then_ you'll see what I mean!" She stormed out of the lab on her new mission.

Watching Sonoko retreat, Ran stepped closer to Shiho and whispered, "What _is_ that drug, really?"

Shiho chuckled. "Common aspirin, but," she added, returning to her work in peace, "she didn't need to know that."


	3. File Three: A Balancing Act

**Note: **See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Three: A Balancing Act_

Soft rustles rose from the jostled bushes as Shin'ichi pushed them apart, revealing a barred, ground level window in a secluded portion of the Honda mansion. Through the inky darkness, a shaft of moonlight betrayed the room within: the personal library of the late Honda Ichiro, where an assailant had bludgeoned him to death. Shin'ichi had ordered the suspects, Honda's sisters and daughters, to wait in the adjoining sitting room—and bicker to their hearts' content.

"Shin'ichi," Ran whispered, shivering as she huddled beside him on the damp grass, "what are we doing out here?"

"Just trying to see if this window is as impossible to open as the Hondas say it is," he replied. Furrowing his brow as he examined the rusty, thick-barred window before them, Shin'ichi pressed his hands against the frame; with a gentle, clockwise tug of the bars, the outer frame unlatched and came off in his hands. Turning toward his wife with a grin, he added, "Here's where I need your help."

Despite her confusion, Ran nodded. During many of his cases, Shin'ichi either asked her questions or needed her to demonstrate crimes—so much so that Hattori Heiji eventually nicknamed her "Watson." Still, what Shin'ichi planned to try from that tiny window, she had no clue.

"The way I see it," Shin'ichi explained, sliding the window open, "the solution to this murder lies in physical capability; the murderer needed to balance herself with her legs while she lowered herself headfirst through the window."

Ran suddenly understood what Shin'ichi wanted her to do—and her cheeks flushed scarlet.

"Something wrong?" Shin'ichi asked, blinking.

Ran nervously tugged at the hem of her skirt and stared at the ground. "Um, you don't need me to go in _headfirst_, do you?"

Clamping his hand over his mouth, Shin'ichi shook with muffled laughter. "Ran, don't worry about your skirt," he managed to reply. "Nobody's going to see you but me."

Gulping hard, Ran glanced from Shin'ichi to the window and bit her lip. She strained her ears to make sure no one was coming; and then, with one last glance at Shin'ichi, she steeled her resolve and pushed her upper body into the room. After gaining leverage by pressing her feet against the window frame, she dangled within reach of Honda's desk—and used her free hand to hold her skirt up.

_Slam!_

"Kyaa!" cried Ran, flailing at the door slam—and feeling a sudden, cold draft on her bare legs. Then, as yelling emerged from outside the sitting room, footsteps shuffled in the direction of the library.

And to her horror, Ran realized that her skirt now hung completely upside down.

"No, Aunt Momoko!" came a muffled yell from outside the library door. "I _don't_ care if someone kills me!"

"Shin'ichi!" Ran cried, craning her neck upward. "Help me up!"

"Right!" he replied. Unfortunately, Shin'ichi grabbed Ran's ankles just as Honda Sakuya charged into the room, flipped the overhead light switch—and screamed.

Ran squealed, flushing redder than a tomato. "Drop me, Shin'ichi—I can't move!"

But just then, realization shot through Shin'ichi's mind. "Of course! The murderer didn't need help to descend into the room, but she _did_ need help to get out!"

Meanwhile, drawn by the commotion, the entire Honda household dashed into the library. And all of them, down to the last servant, either dropped their jaws or snickered at the sight of the great detective flashing them his wife's underwear.

"_Shin'ichi," _Ran pleaded, desperately kicking her legs, "_drop me!"_

Snapping back to attention, Shin'ichi immediately released her; and though Ran landed a handspring on the desk below, she flew through the air and landed in the crowd—like a human bowling ball.

Leaning halfway through the window, Shin'ichi cringed. "Uh, are you alright?"

The Hondas slowly backed away as Ran staggered to her feet, dusted herself, and gave Shin'ichi a withering glare.

"Um, everyone," Shin'ichi announced, cold sweat dripping down his face, "I've, uh, solved the case."


	4. File Four: The Talk

**Note:** I had to repost everything because of a website glitch. See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Four: "The Talk"_

Kudou Shin'ichi juggled a checkered football in front of his library desk, bouncing it with his knees, then his feet, then his head, and then his knees again. Normally, the great detective would be puzzling over some indistinct connection of clues, like that of a hair pin with soap shavings, while doing this. But this was no ordinary problem; and though the ordinary problems of deduction filled Shin'ichi with a special thrill, this problem filled him with a special dread.

'_Are you sure?' he asked Ran, after choking on his coffee and spilling it all over the morning paper. 'Conan's kind of young for that talk, don't you think?'_

'_But after what his classmates said,' Ran protested, 'he has questions.'_

'_I can't just—tell him everything!' he said, flustered._

'_No, you're right,' Ran reassured him. 'Just—keep it simple.'_

Heaving a sigh, Shin'ichi bounced the ball more and more vigorously. _Simple? _he thought, observing specks of dust in the warm sunlight as he brainstormed for the hundredth time. _As if _that's _possible—_

"Daddy?"

Startled, Shin'ichi kicked the ball so hard it flew across the room. The ball bounced, with a smack, on the marble floor and sailed overhead a little boy, whose bright eyes sparkled in contrast with his jet black hair. Leaping from the doorway, Conan connected his forehead with the ball and bumped it back to his father.

Shin'ichi jumped into the air like a goalie, grabbed the football, and let it drop to the floor. Then, reaching a hand behind his head, Shin'ichi gave Conan a weak smile. "Conan, your mother said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Mmm hmm," the boy said, with a sullen nod. "Uh, Daddy, kids at school keep asking me about—stuff."

A lead weight dropped into the pit of Shin'ichi's stomach. "Um, what 'stuff'?"

Conan bit his lip and stared at the floor, small beads of sweat forming on his brow. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to gain courage, then popped them open and asked, "Daddy, why did you and Mommy—"

_Here we go._

"—name me Conan?"

"Well, uh," tried Shin'ichi as he took a step closer, "you remember how much I love to read Conan Doyle, right?"

"But Daddy," protested the little boy, almost on the verge of tears, "that's what I tell everybody at school—and they still say my name's weird!" Then, before Shin'ichi could answer his complaint, Conan blinked and said, "Wait a minute! Mommy doesn't like Conan Doyle, does she?"

Shin'ichi eyed him cautiously, not liking where this was going. "Well, no, not exactly . . ."

Suddenly, Conan marched past Shin'ichi, hopped from the floor to the cushioned armchair, and then clambered on top of the desk to face his father—at eye level. "Then why did Mommy say the name 'Conan' was special to her?"

"S-special?" A faint blush bloomed on Shin'ichi's cheeks; Ran had never told _him_ about this.

"Why, Daddy?" persisted Conan, his innocent gaze fixed on Shin'ichi as he planted his fists firmly on his hips. "Who's Conan?"

Shin'ichi groaned as he started to pace, running his fingers though his hair. Not just any answer would do, Shin'ichi knew, not even for a seven year old. Conan was his son, after all; but more importantly, he was _Ran's._

Then, an idea struck him like lightening. _Keep it simple._

"I'm Conan."

Conan blinked, and then scratched his head in confusion. "But your name's not Conan."

"Well," Shin'ichi said, grinning, "when your mother and I were still in high school, we went out to Tropical Land where I saw some suspicious men in black. Following them, I watched them close a deal with a gun smuggler; but they caught me, so they fed me a poison that shrank me to the size of a little boy. And then, since your mother didn't know about it, I called myself 'Conan' to trick her."

For a full two minutes, Conan gave him a blank stare—and said nothing.

Then, he snorted. "Daddy, that's the silliest story in the world!"

Leaping from the desk, Conan snatched the football and stormed out of the library—almost knocking over his mother in the process. According to Shin'ichi's guess, Conan planned to kick the ball around the yard until he discovered the _real_ identity of his mysterious namesake.

Ran watched Conan disappear, then slumped against the doorframe and sighed. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry," laughed Shin'ichi, as he crouched beside a nearby shelf and removed a book: the _Complete Works of Edogawa Rampo_. "When he's old enough, he'll understand that, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'" He added, winking at Ran, "So said Conan Doyle."


	5. File Five: Sweet Dreams and Distractions

**Note: **See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Irene Adler is the clever woman who outwitted Holmes in "A Scandal in Bohemia," from The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes—a story that inspired this sketch. Please review!

_

* * *

_

File Five: Sweet Dreams—and Distractions

"But Takahashi Reika didn't see him . . . hmmm . . . maybe—"

"Maybe you should go to sleep, Shin'ichi," Ran murmured, raising her bleary eyes from the pillow.

Sitting in the bed beside Ran, Shin'ichi blocked the dull, yellow glow of the nightstand lamp—_still_ on at half past midnight—from her face with his silhouette; he refused Ran a wink of sleep, however, by constantly mumbling to himself about the Takahashi embezzling case.

Shin'ichi offered her a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I can't help but turn this over in my head. I'll be done soon, though—in a few more minutes."

Sighing, Ran turned toward the opposite wall, burrowing under the blankets like a caterpillar in its cocoon. A few minutes passed as silence smoothed its balm over Ran's heavy eyelids, drawing them closed.

"Darn it!"

And Ran's eyes popped open.

Rubbing his chin, Shin'ichi muttered, "There's something missing."

Ran languidly rolled over, raised herself onto her elbow, and glared at her husband. "_Shin'ichi._"

A bead of sweat formed on his forehead. "Sorry, Ran. I was just so _close_—"

"So was I," sighed Ran. With a yawn, she asked, "Why don't you go back into the study and think?"

"Distractions," he answered, stretching his arms behind his head. "So many records, so much contradicting evidence; I'd get bogged down in it." Then, shifting the pillows behind his back, he smirked and said, "You know, I could take up pipe smoking. Once, Holmes stayed up all night to solve a case, and Watson woke up to find that he'd smoked—"

"—an entire pouch of tobacco. I remember," Ran replied, with a sleepy smile. "Heiji may call me what he wants, but if Watson can sleep in smelly smoke, I'm nothing like him." Again turning to face the wall and drawing the comforter over her head, she mumbled, "So, just take up sleeping . . . Shin'ichi . . ."

"In a few more minutes," he whispered, "I promise."

_That's what you said last time,_ Ran thought, planting her face into the down comforter.

As she struggled to sleep, however, the gears in her head started turning. Obviously, asking sweetly and suggesting alternatives had failed. Then, a bold idea struck Ran, making her blush; but after five minutes passed, Ran began to abandon her idea and drift into the land of sweet dreams.

That is, until Shin'ichi had a breakthrough.

"Wait a minute!" he cried, bolting upright—and accidentally tearing the covers from Ran's head. "What if the Takahashi Group—"

But Ran was up in a flash. She suddenly threw herself into Shin'ichi's arms, wound her arms around his neck and, before he could even give a startled cry, covered his mouth with hers. When they eventually parted, Shin'ichi blinked at Ran, stunned.

"Goodnight!" she chirped, as she leaped from her husband to her pillow, which she squeezed with a mysterious contentment.

_Strange_, Shin'ichi thought, cocking an eyebrow, _but nice_.

He settled back upon the bed and returned to his deductions, trying to remember what his brilliant thought had been. It had involved financial loopholes and the rotation of clerks, but nothing more specific came to mind. All that came to his mind, and then flushed his cheeks, was Ran—and her kiss.

Shaking his head, Shin'ichi pried his thoughts onto the case.

No matter how hard he fought the impulse, however, his eyes slowly gravitated to the sleeping figure beside him. Lying on her stomach, she rose and fell with gentle, regular breaths; her dark hair shone as it spilled over the pillow and her face, framing her rosy cheeks and lips—

_Alright, it's official_, Shin'ichi thought, hanging his head._ I can't concentrate._

Creeping quietly out of bed, Shin'ichi put on his slippers, turned off the lamp, and tiptoed toward the door; he planned to try the study again, hoping the records would prove useful, after all. _At any rate_, he thought, grasping the doorknob, _anywhere would be less distracting than here—_

Suddenly, Shin'ichi froze. He spun to face Ran, who slumbered peacefully in the quiet darkness—and he gaped in disbelief. _She did that on purpose!_

Then, Shin'ichi began to shake with laughter as he thought, _No, Ran's not so much like Watson. She's more like. . . _. Recalling a woman—_the_ woman—who once outsmarted Sherlock Holmes, Shin'ichi gently closed the door behind him and whispered, "Sweet dreams—Irene."


	6. File Six: Honey

**Note: **See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. _Beowulf_ is a classic, Old English poem about a mythical warrior. I have used, and will use, titles like "Miss," etc., instead of honorifics like "-neechan." Please review!

_

* * *

_

File Six: Honey

As Genta spied another glossy photo of Ran and Shin'ichi smiling beneath an English street sign, he shifted his portly form on the sofa and exclaimed, "Wow—you have _lots_ of pictures of Baker Street!"

While waiting for Shin'ichi to return from the station for their picnic, the group relaxed in a room of the Kudou mansion set aside as a den: Professor Agasa rested in a large armchair and watched little Conan play while Shiho read a magazine; fortunately for Ran, the three restless Detective Boys—though the Teitan High juniors no longer cared for the name—took an interest in some recently added pictures of Ran and Shin'ichi's England honeymoon within the constant-work-in-progress wedding album.

Ran blushed slightly, glancing toward the ceiling. "Well, Shin'ichi _was_ a little excited about that—"

"What's this?" Ayumi asked from where she stood behind Ran, jabbing her finger at a picture in the upper right-hand corner of the page; Ran and Shin'ichi appeared to be sitting in the corner booth of a local pub or restaurant, raising glasses filled with golden liquid—though Ran eyed her glass warily.

Giggling at the memory, Ran replied, "That's mead."

Mitsuhiko, Genta, and Ayumi blinked in unison. "Mead?"

"Fermented honey," Ran explained, turning to face the trio as they formed a semicircle behind her. "Shin'ichi insisted I try it just once—but it's very sweet," she added, wrinkling her nose.

"Now I remember!" said Mitsuhiko, from his seat on Ran's left, crossing his arms and grinning in satisfaction. "I read about this in _Beowulf_: warriors used to sit in grand rooms with benches, called mead halls. There, the king would give his _theigns_ treasure in return for their fealty in battle, and then they would drink mead together."

"Wow!" gasped Ayumi, leaning on her elbows between Ran and Mitsuhiko. "You sure know a lot about this!"

Off to their right, Genta scowled.

"Though Ran _could_ be quite the warrior," Professor Agasa laughed, sitting beside the sun drenched window while Conan struggled with his newly invented, electromagnetic 3D puzzle, "I doubt Shin'ichi had that in mind."

But placing a finger on her chin, Ran mused, "Now that you mention it, he _did_ joke that it made our honeymoon official—something about the Anglo-Saxons."

"Marriage by capture."

All eyes turned toward Shiho—who nonchalantly flipped another page of her magazine. "Sometimes, in the early medieval times of England," she continued, without looking up, "a man who wished to marry led his strongest friends into his intended bride's home; while they fought off the bride's family, the groom seized the bride and carried her away." With a small smile, she added, "The word 'honeymoon' comes from the month, or 'moon,' the newlyweds then spent in seclusion while drinking mead—that is, 'honey.'"

"You know," bubbled Ayumi, leaning on the couch and cradling her chin in her hands, "that sounds kind of—sweet. I almost wouldn't mind getting married that way."

With that, cold sweat trickled down Genta and Mitsuhiko's faces.

"Hey, I'm back!" echoed Shin'ichi's voice in the hall, as the front door closed with a thud. Within a minute, Shin'ichi strolled into the den, lifted Conan from the floor—and immediately spied the open album upon Ran's lap. "Showing them England, huh?"

"Uh, yes," Ran stammered, eyeing the three teens cautiously.

Chuckling, Shin'ichi set Conan down and bent over Ran's shoulder. Peering more closely at the album, he said, "What's so interesting about us drinking mead?"

"N-nothing!" Ayumi squeaked, waving her arms while her cheeks burned bright red.

Shin'ichi cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "Then why has it shifted at least twenty-five degrees and is more smudged than the rest? You know how careful Ran is with her albums."

Professor Agasa could barely stifle his laughter.

With sidelong glances at Mitsuhiko and Genta, Shin'ichi asked, "Since your parents won't mind, would you like me to bring some mead to the park, so you can try a little?"

"But, Daddy!" Conan cried, tugging at his pant leg. "Miss Ayumi can't drink that unless she's married, and she doesn't have someone to capture her!"

"_Capture?_" Shin'ichi asked, now thoroughly amused.

"No need to worry about that, Conan," Shiho replied as she stood, straightening her skirt and lifting a heavy, red picnic basket. Striding past the three blushing teenagers, she muttered, "We just need a duel."


	7. File Seven: Show and Tell

**Note:** See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Seven: Show and Tell_

Ran and Shin'ichi gaped in horror.

Police stood around the prone body of Yokomoto Takehiko as he lay on the bloodied, blue carpet of his neighbor's home, having been stabbed twenty times in the back. Various bits of evidence surrounded him, including a butcher knife that was surely a decoy because the stab wounds were too narrow.

But at that moment, these facts concerned none of the Kudous—except the youngest.

"Half the children at Show and Tell were _petrified_ after they saw this!" snapped thirty-five year old Suzuki Akiko, as she tapped her wiry finger upon a photograph from the Yokomoto case. Tossing it before Ran and Shin'ichi onto their sitting room coffee table, Ms. Suzuki asked, "How did Conan get this?"

Ran glanced at Shin'ichi and bit her lip. "Conan was playing in the study the other day, wasn't he?"

"Well, yes," Shin'ichi admitted, wide eyed, "but I _always _lock the file cabinet, whether or not he's around!" Then, turning pale, he said, "Wait—Inspector Megure suddenly called me in that day, and—I might have forgotten . . . ."

Ms. Suzuki tucked a dull, brown strand of hair back into her bun and frowned. "Maybe your son's desensitized to all these—crime scenes," she said, waving a hand dismissively at the photograph, "but if I hadn't stopped Conan from plunging into a speech about _rigor mortis_, he would have scared my students to death!"

Nodding vigorously, Ran cried, "Of course! We're so sorry; this will _never_ happen again, we promise!"

"I hope so!" replied Ms. Suzuki. Rummaging through her purse, she found a pill box and opened it, then popped a small piece of chewing gum into her mouth. "After all, delinquency starts at home."

Shin'ichi felt Ran stiffen—and knew there would be trouble.

"Excuse me, Ms. Suzuki," Ran asked as politely as she could, through tightening lips, "but what did you say?"

"Only the truth, Mrs. Kudou," she said, removing the gum from her mouth to sip her tea. "Conan's an 'A' student now, but his fascination with blood samples and criminal motive will only lead him to criminal behavior—"

Ran tightened her grip on Shin'ichi's hand.

"—and I can't have him corrupting my class."

A smoldering fire burned behind Ran's eyes and piped a thin stream of smoke through her reddening ears.

"_Corrupting?_" Ran said, dropping her voice dangerously low. "How _dare_—"

"I think what my wife's trying to say," interrupted Shin'ichi, gently laying a hand on Ran's arm, "is that you're overreacting, Ms. Suzuki." Then, a smirk played on his face as he added, "But with all the mice running around your apartment, it's no surprise that you're stressed."

"What?" Ms. Suzuki snapped, her eyebrow twitching.

"Those _are_ glue traps in your binder, aren't they?" Shin'ichi said, running a finger along the rounded cards that slightly protruded from Ms. Suzuki's black binder—before she snatched it from the coffee table and laid it beside her on the sofa. "Don't worry!" he said, with mock reassurance, "Your binder's thick enough to hide them; but they're the obvious source of that peanut butter smell."

Opening, closing, and reopening her mouth, Ms. Suzuki struggled to speak, but no sound came out.

"You should be happy about that," he said, genially, "since that means you've found the right cure for your halitosis."

All the color drained from Ms. Suzuki's face. "H-how—"

Shin'ichi leaned forward and sniffed her breath, earning a puzzled and disturbed look from the schoolteacher. "Obviously," he said, grinning, "Your gum's flavor comes from a unique blend of cinnamon, spearmint, and vanilla. But as the new Fresh Breeze prescription gum advertises, its odor-neutralizing medication also tones down the aroma. I could smell the peanut glue traps just fine."

The corners of Ran's mouth tugged into a smile.

Narrowing her eyes to slits as she glared at Shin'ichi, Ms. Suzuki said, "You're enjoying this, aren't you, Mr. Detective?"

"No," Shin'ichi replied, "I just think that someone with personal flaws should wait before judging the flaws of others."

"Well, I—I never!" With that, Ms. Suzuki leaped to her feet, turned to leave—and spilled her mouse traps all over the floor.

Crouching to pick them up, Shin'ichi handed them to Ms. Suzuki with a puckish grin. "You might need these."

Ms. Suzuki grabbed the traps and stormed toward the front door. As she threw open the door to the bright, midday sunlight, she whirled on Shin'ichi and jabbed a finger at his chest, saying, "You should be careful. Once, there was a student who spent all his time at crime scenes and only found trouble. I never had him in _my_ class, thank goodness; but one day he disappeared and no one ever heard from him again! Mr. and Mrs. Kudou, you'd better hope your son doesn't end up like this other Conan—_Edogawa_ Conan. Remember that!"

As Ms. Suzuki stomped off, Ran looped her arms around Shin'ichi's waist. "Actually," she laughed, "I hope he does."


	8. File Eight: Like Father, Like Son In Law

**Note:** See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Eight: Like Father, Like Son-In-Law  
_

"Fantastic! Fantastic food and fantastic wine!" Mouri Kogorou cried, beginning his lavish meal without stopping to give thanks.

Beside him, Shin'ichi leaned an elbow on the silk tablecloth and groaned. _It's fantastic because my father's paying._

In fact, despite the many patrons at the Adler Hotel's atrium restaurant, it was only the glass-domed corner booth with the party of six: Shin'ichi, Ran, and their parents, that buzzed with such excitement that their neighbors turned to watch.

Ran cupped a hand over her mouth and hissed, "Dad, calm down! People are beginning to stare!"

"I've given up on that long ago," Eri muttered, as she unfolded her napkin on her lap. Giving Ran a sly smile, she said, "Compared with Kogorou, I'm sure _your_ husband's no trouble."

Kogorou flew into a coughing fit and nearly choked on his filet mignon.

Yukiko, sitting across from them, giggled. "Shin-chan's _always_ been trouble, you know that, Eri."

_Would you stop calling me Shin-chan before I'm thirty?_ Shin'ichi thought, lowering his fork yet again. Intuition warned him that he would soon lose his appetite.

"Don't feel too bad, son," Yuusaku said, laughing as he reached past Ran and nudged Shin'ichi in the arm. "After all, you've become a lot like Mouri here."

Shin'ichi and Kogorou jumped in unison, their faces twisted in disgust. "What?"

Shaking her head, Eri chuckled and said, "I warned you not to grow up to be like him. But I also warned Ran not to fall for a detective, so—"

"W-well, that's kind of silly, right? You didn't know it was Shin'ichi at the time," Ran stammered, blushing as she twisted her ceramic napkin ring.

"Oh, but I think I see it now!" Yukiko cried in amazement, as if Ran had not said a word. "You're right. After all these years, he even _looks _like Kogorou."

Yuusaku rubbed his chin and nodded, inspecting Shin'ichi with a straight face. "Mmm hmm—anything's possible. Maybe you should've taken Ran's name, instead."

"Hey, hey, Dad! Let's not get ridiculous—right, Ran?" Shin'ichi asked, turning toward her, wincing and twitching his eyebrow.

Ran blinked. Touching a finger to her cheek, she murmured, "Well . . ."

Both Shin'ichi and Kogorou cried, "Yes?"

Blushing harder, Ran laughed. "Dad _has_ begun to like lemon pie."

That was it. As Shin'ichi sank in his seat, he declared himself officially sick. Unknown to him, Kogorou sank at the same time, open-mouthed. _No way!_

"Wonderful," Kogorou grumbled, rubbing his now sore stomach, "this kid can be compared with me, the great Mouri Kogorou."

Shin'ichi shot him a glare. After all that had happened, he found it hard to believe that Kogorou never lost his ego. _Since when were you the "great"—_

"Mouri Kogorou! Did you just say that you're Mouri Kogorou?"

Everyone turned toward the stranger: a small, thin man with thick-rimmed glasses and a tiny mustache. He continued, "Are you that famous detective?"

"Why yes, I am!" Kogorou said, jumping upright to shake the man's hand. "That's me, the great detective Mouri Kogorou, completely unreliant on anyone for my deductions," he added, elbowing Shin'ichi in the ribs.

The little man, taken aback, nevertheless bowed in gratitude; when he rose, he spotted Shin'ichi grunting as he rubbed his side—and blinked.

"Oh! Detective Mouri, is that your son?"

Kogorou and Shin'ichi froze and turned ten shades of the sickliest white.

"S-s-s . . ."

"Well, he looks like a fine young man," the visitor said, with another bow, as he turned to leave.

"_We're in-laws!_"

Their echoes reverberated through the restaurant, causing most to gasp, and then fall silent—after the violinist's string snapped. While Eri and the elder Kudous tried in vain to swallow their laughter, Ran just put her face in her hands and moaned.

After turning toward each other with a frantic stare, Shin'ichi and Kogorou slackened, agreeing upon a wordless truce. Holding out their hands to their family, they asked, "Anyone got an antacid?"


	9. File Nine: Happy Anniversary

**Note:** See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. _A Study in Scarlet_ is the novel that introduced Sherlock Holmes. Though this file is much longer and more romantic than the others, I find it fits best here, rather than as a separate story. Please review!

* * *

_File Nine: Happy Anniversary_

"Alright, what's the real reason?"

Kudou Ran blinked at her husband in the candlelight of their dining room and set down her fork. She laid the silverware on her plate as gently as possible, trying not to worry about chipping the good china or splashing sauce on the matte satin cloth of her dress; but nothing pleased her more than to risk the china or her dress if it gained her a peaceful table on such a special night. "_Real _reason?"

"Yeah, the real reason you insisted on cooking dinner instead of going out," Shin'ichi said with a laugh, surveying Ran over the flickering candle—which she had also set, with their best crystal, for her western meal of shrimp linguine with cream sauce. "I'm sensing an ulterior motive."

"I just thought it'd be nice to be alone, not in some crowded restaurant," Ran huffed, sticking her nose in the air to avoid Shin'ichi's scrutinizing gaze. "Is that a crime on our anniversary?"

"Nah, just curious," Shin'ichi said, tucking his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair, though not retracting his gaze. Beneath the tendrils of Ran's upswept hair that framed her face, Shin'ichi spied a blush creep to her cheeks. He figured as much. "You gotta admit, though," he said suddenly, breaking the silence, "it's a clever way to avoid a case."

Ran flashed Shin'ichi a smile, but betrayed a sweatdrop on her forehead. "Um, what case?"

"You forgot?" Shin'ichi said, chuckling. "When I suggested we go back to the Adler Hotel's restaurant yesterday, I figured you thought of the time we went there with our parents a few months ago; an old guy recognized your dad—"

"And thought you were his son," Ran added, leaning on her elbow and anticipating her defeat.

"And an hour later, his business partner kidnapped his niece. Since you _screamed_ at my suggestion of going back, it just seemed like you wanted to avoid the possibility of getting caught up in another case," Shin'ichi finished, smirking and spearing another shrimp onto his fork.

"Alright, alright, that's why," Ran sighed, with a weak nod. "But that's not the only time this happened. Last month, when we tried to go to the play that was premiering at the new theater, we ran into Kazuha and Heiji—and both of you got involved in a murder case!"

"Now _that_ was coincidence—"

_Brrrrrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiing!_

A simple, yet noisy telephone rang from the direction of the study. Ran and Shin'ichi glanced at each other in amazement. They reserved that phone line for only one thing: _cases_.

"Oh, damn! Forgot to unplug the line," Shin'ichi muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ran eyed Shin'ichi with some suspicion. "Are you going to answer it?"

"No—it's probably the usual client. If Inspector Megure needs me, he knows my cell number," Shin'ichi answered, forcing his wavering attention back onto his plate.

_Ding-da-ding-da-ding-da-ding!_

This time, the delicate ringtone came from a familiar purse. Ran gasped, then reached for her bag and rifled its contents for a slender, pink, mock-pearl lined cell phone. "My phone! But that could only be Ayumi—h-hello? Ayumi? Is Conan OK?"

Shin'ichi leaned forward, gripping the table in concern—until he heard the response.

"What?" Ran asked, eyes widening in disbelief. "Um, yes, you can read Conan _A Study In Scarlet _for a bedtime story. I don't like it very much, but Shin'ichi reads it to him all the time, so . . . OK, that's alright . . . goodbye."

"So now Ayumi can't tell 'emergency number,' from 'minor concerns hotline,'" Shin'ichi grumbled, settling back into his seat and reaching his hands behind his head. "She's usually smarter than that."

"She's just nervous since this is her first time watching Conan overnight," Ran replied, forcing a smile. "I don't think she'll call—"

_Brrrrrbrrrrrrrbrrrrrrr!_

"No way!" Shin'ichi exclaimed. He reached for the vibrating cell phone clipped to his leather belt, then opened it to check the ID on the inner screen. _Inspector Megure._

"Answer it," Ran said, leaning once more on her elbow with a grin. "It's important, right?"

"Well, alright . . . but I'm not going anywhere—hello?" Shin'ichi said, immediately arrested by the sound of Megure's nervous barking to the other officers.

Ran, for her part, watched Shin'ichi and sighed. The interruption of a scream, she was used to; the sudden intrusion of Megure, Shiratori, or the recently promoted Takagi, she could handle; but she never expected her plans to go awry because of a game of phone tag.

_Ding-da-ding-da-ding-da-ding!_

"Not again!" Ran cried, rummaging through her purse as her cell phone sprung to life. Flipping it open, she cried, "Y-yes, Ayumi? Is something wrong? Oh . . . but the four numbers I gave you this afternoon should be fine, and Shiho and Professor Agasa are always next door to us—well, let me see . . . ."

Meanwhile, as Shin'ichi inquired about the facts of the case, he found his attention slipping away. Despite learning pertinent information about the murder investigation in downtown Beika, his mind drifted to the image of Ran across the table, running her fingers through her bangs and attempting to supply the anxious babysitter with six more 'emergency' numbers. In fact, when he thought about it, he felt embarrassed that the police could not solve such a _simple_ case themselves.

"Inspector, I'm certain all the alibis they supplied will contradict each other if you check beneath the back shelves of the storage area . . . and would you call Hattori Heiji and tell him about the evidence instead?" he added, glancing at Ran. "There's something important I need to do."

Ignoring Megure's cries of protest, Shin'ichi snapped his cell phone shut, rose, tossed the phone onto his seat, walked toward Ran, who was internally debating whether or not to give Ayumi the number of her father's mahjong buddy, and slipped the phone from her fingers. Snapping it shut as well, he laid it on the table and, after blowing out the candle—hoisted Ran onto his shoulder.

The karate champion was too stunned to struggle. "W-what are you doing?"

_Brrrrrbrrrrrrrbrrrrrrr!_ _Ding-da-ding-da-ding-da-ding! Brrrrrbrrrrrrrbrrrrrrr . . . ._

"S-Shin'ichi!" Ran cried, flailing an arm toward her phone in vain. Shin'ichi proceeded to carry her out of the dining room, into the foyer, and up the stairs, despite the echo of buzzing and ringing in the hall. "Wait! Ayumi's still . . . and isn't Inspector Megure—"

"It's alright," Shin'ichi said, with a placid expression, as he continued to carry Ran upstairs, "They can wait until morning."

It took a few seconds for Ran to realize what he meant. Flushing a dark, burning red, Ran began to squeak, "B-but—"

Reaching the top of the stairs, Shin'ichi set her down and wound his arms around her waist. "Hey, I don't say it much, but over the years you've done your fair share of waiting. Let them wait awhile."

After looking for a moment into his earnest gaze, Ran fluttered her eyelids closed, inclining as Shin'ichi drew her closer and united their lips in a warm kiss. When they parted, and Shin'ichi gently pressed his forehead to hers, Ran gave him a blushing smile through their intertwined hair and murmured, "_Well _. . . I guess they can wait."

With a last glance toward the darkened dining room, Shin'ichi took Ran's hand and led her away, unable to stifle a chuckle as the phones continued to ring their futile cacophony into the night.

---------------------------------------

Some time later, another phone rang—the main phone. After several rings, the answering machine picked up; the machine piped into the foyer an irritated voice with a distinctly Kansai accent.

"Hey, hey, Kudou!" Hattori Heiji spat, angrily, "What's your problem? Unless you've had a major head injury since last month, you could've solved that Beika case you handed me in two seconds! You know, I was just falling asleep when Inspector Megure called, telling me you hung up on him—"

"H-Heiji? Who are you talking to?" asked a nervous, female voice beside him.

"It's just Kudou's _answering machine_, Kazuha," Heiji muttered. "Go back to sleep. Now, Kudou, I don't know what kind of joke this is, but—"

"Heiji! Hang up the phone—_now!_"

Ignoring her, Heiji continued his tirade, saying, "What are you _doing_, anyway?"

"You _idiot!_" Kazuha yelled, ready for another patented Hattori shouting match. "It's their _anniversary!_"

There was a long pause.

"Oh."

_Click. Beeeeeeep._


	10. File Ten: A Kudou's Carol

**Note:** Here's my belated Christmastide contribution! See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

_

* * *

_

File Ten: A Kudou's Carol

"Scrumptious eggnog, Ran! Perfect after a long day," chirped Suzuki Sonoko, taking another eager sip of the thick, golden liquid from her glass. Though the evening was frigid and snow blanketed all of Beika, Sonoko came for her promised visit, knowing that this night promised to be a busy one for the police and their unofficial savior. "Too bad Chibi-chan can't try some. Is he still outside, making that snowman?"

"Sonoko! His name is Conan, not _Chibi-chan!_" Ran loved her friend, but did not necessarily love her choice of nicknames—especially when they confused _Kudou_ Conan with _Edogawa_ Conan. Of course, Shin'ichi had never liked the nickname, either. "And I'm not giving him any rum."

"Oh, that's right . . . his grandpa drank enough for everyone at your party last night, huh? Enough to sing all the way home?" quipped Sonoko, waving a hand in the air and leaning on the chestnut dining room table with a smirk.

Ran rose from the table and removed the pewter snack tray between them with staid satisfaction. "Yes, and now he's nursing a hangover and getting yelled at by Mom, which is exactly what he deser—"

"Mommy!" cried a thin voice from the foyer, muffled by the walls. "Quick, come outside! They sound so beautiful!"

"Huh? Who's he talking about?" Sonoko blinked as she slid from her chair and followed Ran to the front door.

Ran winked and put a finger to her lips. When they reached the door, they searched past the falling crystals of white and saw a group of six teenagers huddled in puffy coats and scarves. From their fogged mouths, blending in simple, sweet harmonies from the gate of the Kudou residence, rose a Christmas carol.

"Oh! Wonderful!" gasped Sonoko, gripping the doorjamb and wedging her head beneath Ran's. "Do they do this every year?"

Conan nodded with an enormous smile on his round, rosy face. "Yeah! The middle school chorus goes around in groups to sing carols at everyone's house. It looks like a lot of fun!" Conan paused and touched a finger to his chin in thought. "Hey, Mommy, do you think I can do that when I'm bigger?"

Suddenly, Ran averted her gaze and blushed—which failed to escape Sonoko's notice in the least.

"What's the problem?" Sonoko asked, wrapping the sleeves of her angora sweater around herself for warmth. "It's no big deal to sing in the chorus. Chibi-chan'll do fine, as long as he doesn't take after—"

Bursting with eagerness, Conan joined in the refrain of _Angels We Have Heard On High . . ._

"Glooooooooooooooooria!"

In fifteen different keys, ten of which possessed no former existence in the musical world.

Sonoko twitched. "—his father."

"Um, g-good job honey!" Ran exclaimed, hugging Conan tightly and trying her darnedest not to shudder.

But Sonoko clicked her tongue; after Ran disengaged her son, she took Ran by the elbow and whispered in her ear. "You know what you'll get if you encourage him?"

Ran, oblivious, shook her head.

" . . . another William Hung."

Frozen amid frost, snow, and fear, the two women gaped at Conan—who proceeded to sing his off-key heart out. And as the middle schoolers began another chorus of _Joy to the World_, accompanied by the wavering pitch of the youngest Kudou, Ran grabbed Sonoko's arm like a lifeline. If there was no way to repair the tone-deafness Conan inherited, Ran could only hope that her son would soon cease to _'repeat, repeat the sounding joy'_.


	11. File Eleven: Mommy's Karate

**Note: **Ran's karate skills deserve their day in the sun and, the way I see it, Conan's a good kid who _really _looks up to his cool parents—so naysayers beware! See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

_

* * *

_

_File Eleven: Mommy's Karate_

"Good morning, Sensei!" a chorus of tiny voices cried as Kudou Ran tightened her high ponytail and strode into the wide, wood-paneled room. Twenty children, all from elementary schools around Beika, bid their parents a hasty goodbye and, chatting among themselves, lined against the mirrored wall in their eagerness to begin a new karate lesson from the former Teitan High captain and champion.

Slinging a towel around her shoulders, she gave the grade schoolers a warm smile. "Welcome back, everybody! Before we begin today, we have two new students joining us." She turned around, whispering to two blushing children as she nudged them from the wall. "Would you like to introduce yourselves?"

One of the two, a light haired, skinny boy with an irrepressible cowlick, scratched behind his neck and stepped forward. "Um, hi. I'm Irabu Yuki." As the girl beside him squirmed and sucked her finger, Yuki added, "and this is my twin sister, Yuko."

Before the class could ooh and ahh about how cool it was to meet twins, Ran cleared her throat. "Okay, class! Let's continue from last week . . . ."

Yuki and Yuko shuffled into a corner where their friend, ready in his belted uniform, waited for the twins with a big, almost cocky grin on his face. Yuko blinked her green eyes at her brother in a wordless request; Yuki nodded.

"Psst!" Yuki hissed at his friend, cupping his hand around the boy's ear. "Hey, Conan? Are you sure about this?"

Conan's bold smile quickly turned into a scowl as he crossed his arms. "You _still_ don't believe me!"

Yuko stared at Ran, who gathered the children into smaller groups by age level, and finally dislodged her wet finger from her mouth. With a slight lisp, she said, "Sorry, Conan, but your mommy's so nice. How can she be that good at karate?"

"_What?_" Conan spat, blinking in disbelief.

"Yeah!" returned Yuki, while he and his sister pictured all the previous encounters with their classmate's sweet mother. "When we all went camping, your mommy made our s'mores so we wouldn't burn our fingers; when she took us to see your grandma, she let us play with her old costumes and got us out of your grandma's bear hugs—"

The three shuddered at _that_ memory.

"And yesterday, when we came over after school," Yuko added, tugging at her side ponytail, "your mommy gave us the yummy fudge brownies she made!"

But Conan frowned. "I don't get it."

Yuki and Yuko glanced at each other and chewed their bottom lips. Then, Yuki rubbed his forehead and said, "It's just that your daddy's the one who yells at bad guys all the time and knocks them out. Your mommy's just—too nice!"

"Oh, yeah? Mommy can beat up anybody, _even_ bad guys!" Conan said, glaring at the two, pint-sized skeptics.

"Come on, you three," suddenly urged a deeper voice as a shadow fell across the children. They glanced up to see Ran, standing over them with her hands on her hips, as she barely suppressed a laugh. "It's time to join the rest of us. I'm going to show you—"

_Bang!_

A shot rang outside the room, muffling its report, but not enough to keep all the students from screaming, crying, and running around the room in general panic. Before Ran could speak, however, there was a rumble of pounding footsteps outside the double doors, which soon flung open. A tall, anxious man broke from the crowd of police officers and thrust his head inside. "Ran!" he cried, "Is everyone alright?"

"Y-yes, Shin'ichi! What's going on?" Ran gasped, sheer horror on her pale face.

Throwing his suit jacket onto the floor, Shin'ichi dashed into the room and shook his head while all the pupils, except the bewildered three, continued to cry. "No time; we have to lock the windows."

Ran nodded, new determination springing to her features as she leapt onto a barre on the opposite wall and desperately tried to shut the small windows and slide their locks closed. As Shin'ichi began to do the same, however, a sinewy man with a black, braided beard pushed himself through the last opening and sprang into the room like a cat.

"Dammit!" Shin'ichi growled, through gritted teeth, as he used the odd belt around his waist to propel an instantly inflated football into kicking position. But in that time, the man whipped a gun from his belt and, flashing Shin'ichi a malicious grin, burst the football with a well-aimed shot.

Yuki and Yuko grabbed Conan's arms and whimpered; but Conan set his little jaw at the bearded man who wanted to hold them hostage.

"Alright, kiddies, don't make me use this," the man laughed, pressing the gun against Shin'ichi's temple and grabbing Ran's wrist, "Unless you want—"

_"Kyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

Ran switched the hold to grab _his_ wrist and wrenched it; as he wailed in pain, she arched backward and slammed her foot into the would-be captor's head like a sledgehammer, hurtling the man across the room until he collided with the mirrored wall, shattered it, and slid to the floor in a bloody heap.

Yuki and Yuko gulped.

Bursting into the room at that moment, Inspector Megure, with Shiratori, Takagi, and Satou close behind, screeched to a halt in the doorway to see their perp, battered and unconscious, amid a roomful of stunned children; the great detective Kudou Shin'ichi and his wife Ran were slumped and panting against a nearby barre. Remarkably, in a corner by themselves, three children huddled with varying expressions of petrified delight. But the clearest delight came from the beaming smile of Kudou Conan, who knew his friends would _never_ doubt his mommy's karate again.


	12. File Twelve: Of Chocolate and First Love

**Note:** Here's my humble Valentine's Day contribution. It feels great to update this hibernating series. My apologies if this was a little thrown together! See the Author's Note on the default chapter for Japanese names. Please review!

* * *

_File Twelve: Of Chocolate and First Love_

On such a special day as St. Valentine's, many a young couple made romantic plans. But for almost a year now, Teitan High junior Yoshida Ayumi had bound herself to babysit the Kudous' young son, Conan, on these days; despite her gentle, feminine demeanor and adorable features, the class secretary and former member of the Detective Boys refused any dates with the male acquaintances to whom she had given chocolate—not the homemade kind. Changing after school into a fluffy, red, turtleneck sweater, pink pleated skirt, and jaunty pink headband, Ayumi made her way to the Kudou home with a bright smile, swinging a small bag of chocolates by her side and allowing its scent to waft in the air like incense.

After all, she knew her dear friends had plans of their own. It was almost as good as playing cupid.

When Ran greeted her with apologies at the door, Ayumi merely shook her head and opened her bag of sweets like a sack of presents from Santa, beckoning both wife and husband to take as much as they wanted. Eagerly finding the keys from Shin'ichi, taking last minute instructions about dinner and bedtime from Ran, and helping Ran with her long, white overcoat, Ayumi waved the couple goodbye and watched them disappear beyond the front gate. Touched then with a wistful feeling, she sighed at the beauty of romance and turned her attentions toward the nearby den.

Poking her head into the doorway, Ayumi found her charge lying on his stomach and crossing his little legs; it soon became clear that the math homework, which Ran said he must finish before dinner, was what kept him from running to greet her with his usual glee. Ayumi bit her lip and grinned. It would be hard not to give the boy too much chocolate . . . before _or_ after supper.

"Hi, Miss Ayumi," Conan said, glancing up once before returning his workbook. Frowning in childlike determination, he twisted his lips and rolled the #2 pencil between them.

Ayumi cocked her head to the side, unsure of what to do. If his mother insisted that he study, it was not her place to take him away from it, but at present he seemed a little _too_ serious. At least, too serious for Valentine's Day. Nodding, Ayumi knit her brow with her own brand of determination as she sidestepped the sofa and tiptoed closer to the boy. _Yes! Young or old, every boy should be able to enjoy some good chocolate!_

Drawing her slippered feet behind her to kneel before Conan, Ayumi offered him her perkiest smile. It was a smile that, for some reason, Genta and Mitsuhiko never liked her to use in public; Shiho once mentioned something about "wiles" and "double standards" that she never quite understood, but took to mean that she could only consider such a charming grin acceptable for her two childhood friends. Conan, however, was a special case. "Happy Valentine's Day, Conan!" she chirped, sliding the unwrapped bag beneath his nose. "Would you like some yummy chocolate?"

Conan's eyes suddenly widened then, causing Ayumi to jump. Something in the way he gaped and let the pencil slip from his mouth to the rug below, as if a flash of light had zipped through his mind, struck her as being oddly familiar.

"Miss Ayumi?" Conan asked, propping his elbows on his book and turning his wide blue eyes on her. "You've known Mommy and Daddy for a long time, right?"

"Yes!" Ayumi replied, giggling her thankfulness for the conversation. "They kind of used to babysit me . . . well," she paused, touching a finger to her chin. Reaching behind her head with a laugh tinged with nervousness, she said, "Most of the time, your mommy did!"

Conan stared at her. To Ayumi, who had the pleasure of looking on that round face from a higher angle, he seemed the perfect picture of cherubic innocence.

"Miss Ayumi, who was your first love?"

Or not.

"What?" Ayumi gasped. Clutching her cheeks, which had begun to feel _very_ warm, she stammered, "Um, w-why do you want to know?"

"Earlier, I overheard Mommy talking about you and a boy," the mirror image of Conan replied, shrugging his shoulders. "His name was Conan."

At that moment, Ayumi's stomach gained its first ulcer. "W-w-wha . . . ."

With a sterner look, he added, "I want to know who this guy is, but Daddy only told me that Conan was his name when some guys in black shrunk him. Isn't that crazy?"

Ayumi felt color drain from her entire body and gather in a pool on the polished wood floor. "He . . . told you that?"

"Yeah!" Conan said, shifting to sit cross-legged and setting his long forgotten workbook aside. Eyeing the open pages, Ayumi noticed that he had only answered one question—meaning that he had been contemplating this embarrassing topic for some time. "So? Was your first love Conan?"

"Y-you shouldn't ask things like that!" Ayumi spluttered, crossing her arms as she flushed. Tiny hairs on the back of her neck sprang up despite her attempts to calm herself with breathing. "Your f-father is ten years older than me, so it's not—"

"Huh?" Conan asked, staring blankly at her. "But Daddy only made up that story, right?"

_He doesn't believe Shin'ichi?_ Ayumi stared into space and covered her mouth in horror, realizing, _Of course Conan wouldn't believe it! I could hardly believe it and I was there. What if Shin'ichi used some kind of reverse psychology and I'm ruining it? But—what am I supposed to say? I can't make up a story without contradicting what his dad told him, but,_ she finally thought, trembling,_ how could I tell Conan about . . . _that?

Ayumi clenched her fists as beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. _T-they . . . never gave me instructions about this!_

While Ayumi quietly gave in to a nervous fit, Conan bent over her open bag of chocolates as if noticing it for the first time. Dipping a hand inside, he produced a chocolate and smiled, licking his lips with pure delight.

A moment later, Conan's actions caught Ayumi's perceptive eye. Maybe there _was_ a solution to her dilemma, after all. "Hey, Conan? You like chocolate, right?"

"Mmm hmm!" Conan said, nodding vigorously. He opened his mouth, ready to gobble the treat, but his babysitter soon interrupted with another question.

"If I give you the rest of my chocolates, would you keep a secret?" Ayumi asked, flashing him her perkiest smile in full strength. Bribery was to be frowned upon as a foul abuse of the law, but she was desperate. If Ran asked, she could say with all honesty that Conan had just been very good and deserved a reward.

As predicted, the boy, whose light eyes sparkled all the more for being unhampered by his predecessor's glasses, squeaked his agreement.

This was the only part Ayumi dreaded. Tugging at the thick lint balls on her sweater, this time she felt her stomach develop acid reflux. But if Shin'ichi's tactic worked, then maybe hers would, too. "Yes," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "My first love—a _long_ time ago—was a boy n-named . . . Edogawa Conan."

"Edogawa?" Conan asked, having chewed and swallowed his first chocolate and reaching for a second. "Like Edogawa Rampo?"

"Er, yes," Ayumi replied, blinking with surprise at never realizing that before. Giggling, she let her mind drift back to warm, sunny camping trips and beach outings, as well as a score of murderous crime scenes that always felt much safer with Edogawa Conan's presence. "He was smart and was great with deduction, so we had many adventures together. But he was a transfer student and, after a long time, he had to go away."

Conan's shoulders sank, then, and he pouted. Without a word, he took a chocolate and dropped it into Ayumi's outstretched hand. "Here, you can have that one," the boy said with a grin. "Thanks a lot, Miss Ayumi! If that's who Conan is, I don't mind being named after him."

_Conan . . . ._ She pat Conan's thick head of hair, looking down on him with a fond smile.

"Besides," Conan added with glee, "that _does_ sound like Daddy!"

"Oh, really?" Ayumi said, her eyes shrinking into black beads as a drop of sweat finally slid down her cheek. She doubted that she would have much or anything to fear from her two wonderful friends, except maybe a scolding for filling their son with sugar and—though she hoped not—spoiling his appetite. Perhaps the joys of Valentine's Day would be enough to distract them, or perhaps it did not matter. It was the first time, since learning the truth about Kudou Shin'ichi, that Ayumi freely confessed the special way he once made her feel.

"Yes, just like your daddy," Ayumi giggled, turning the pat into a noogie as she ate her chocolate. Maybe next year, she would be ready to give someone homemade chocolate. Maybe she would have romantic plans. But even memories, she realized, could be as sweet as any Valentine's chocolate . . . and that was more than enough.


	13. File Thirteen: Hide and Seek

**Note: **My first update in five years! There are small differences in style and honorifics. Enjoy!

* * *

**Title:** File Thirteen: Hide and Seek  
**Author:** RanMouri82  
**Word Count:** 960  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Aoyama created this enormous cast of characters. I just mess with them.  
**Notes:** Shiho's lab became an unusual hiding spot.

_File Thirteen: Hide and Seek_

The minute Miyano Shiho set foot on her basement's landing, turned on the light, and grabbed her lab coat, she halted, knowing something was off. She sensed a presence.

Without bothering to ask who was there, she listened. To this day, ten years after betraying the syndicate, when confronted with the unknown her muscles tensed and the hairs prickled on the back of her neck like that of a hunted hare. Soon, her patience was rewarded when she heard the sound of shallow breathing.

Shiho relaxed at the sound. Whatever hid here was frightened.

She walked along the narrow aisles outfitted with sinks and centrifuges, moving as slowly and softly as possible. The sounds came from a low cabinet in the farthest corner. Whether the intruder was a neighbor's pet or a stray, she did not want to spook the poor animal or risk rabies. Besides, she could have sworn the whimper she heard was human.

Reaching the last cabinet, Shiho opened the door and found—"Conan-kun."

Turning his wide eyes to hers, Conan murmured, "I'm s-sorry, Shiho-neesan."

Though her first instinct was to snap at the disobedient boy, the way he curled into a tight ball in his button-down shirt, slacks, and stocking feet thawed her solid heart. She must have missed his shoes at the door. Regardless, a reprimand was in order, and she knew Ran would be grateful for it. Slipping on her lab coat, she put her hands on her hips and said, "You know you're not allowed here by yourself because this room is filled with glass and dangerous chemicals. Your parents will hear about this. Now, come with me—"

"No! Please, not yet!" Conan said, shivering and wriggling his wrist free of Shiho's grasp. He scooted further into the cabinet between two large bottles of distilled water. "She's gonna find me!"

_Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the trouble._Trying her best not to indulge Conan by grinning, Shiho asked, "What do you mean by that? Who is she?"

"G-Grandma!" Conan squeaked, looking for all the world like a cross between a miniature Shin'ichi and a deer in headlights. "She's scary!"

Shiho could suppress her smile no more. Kisaki Eri could make even Shin'ichi's teeth chatter if her temper raged hot enough. Though Eri was always affectionate with her grandson, anything could set her on the war path, especially if it involved Mouri Kogorou. Shiho knelt on the tiled floor, sat on her heels, and turned a softer gaze to Conan. "You know your grandmother loves you, right? Besides, if you're not careful, you can waste a lifetime of energy running away and hiding."

"Really?" Conan blinked, and then shifted onto his hands and knees.

"Yes. Sometimes it's much better to step outside. After all," she said, holding out her open hand to Conan, "that's where the world's waiting."

Just as Conan reached a hesitant hand to Shiho, heavier footfalls bounded down the stairs and into the room, soon proving their owner to be, as Shiho predicted, Shin'ichi.

"You're getting harder to find, you know that?" Shin'ichi groused, though he crouched beside the pair and patted his son's head with a widening smirk. "Still, got to say this spot was creative."

"And you're encouraging him," Shiho said, straightening up and helping Conan to his feet. "Weren't you the one who once told me not to run away from fate?"

Shin'ichi glared at Shiho, but bit back whatever sarcastic remark leaped to his tongue. Instead, with a sigh, he looked into Conan's trembling face and said, "Hate to say it, but she's right. Your grandma's like a Chinese finger trap: the more you struggle, the tighter it gets."

Conan gaped in horror. "You mean I should let her do _that_?"

Shin'ichi nodded, but grinned with complete understanding. "Don't worry. From years of experience, I can tell you that it blows over quickly. And I'll be right here."

Still holding the boy's hand, Shiho hid her puzzlement and said, "So will I."

"Daddy…Shiho-neesan…." Looking from one to the other, Conan slipped his hand away from Shiho and stepped forward with as fiery a look of determination as the child could muster. "Then, I'm ready."

Suddenly, a door slammed upstairs, followed by the loudest, cheeriest voice known to all Beika, if not Japan. "_CO-CHAAAAN!_"

Shiho frowned. "Wait a minute, that's—"

Sweeping downstairs through the open basement door, Kudou Yukiko burst into the lab, the very picture of ecstasy. Her light curls bounced upon her shoulders, permitting no strand of gray to dampen its dance of sheer joy. Yukiko scooped Conan into her arms and swung him to and fro, peppering him with a thousand kisses while he hung limp in her arms like a rag doll. "There you are, my sweet—little—boy!"

"Sheesh, Mom, this is a laboratory, not a petting zoo!" As Yukiko spun Conan at odd angles, Shin'ichi dove for Conan and caught him like a goalie.

"My thoughts exactly, Kudou-kun," Shiho said. She had just about enough of this family for one day. Pointing Yukiko to the door, she added, "With all due respect, Kudou-san, you don't want me to resort to drastic measures."

As Shin'ichi drove his mother upstairs and reclaimed his son, Shiho watched them tumble out of sight with a satisfied sigh—and then took off her lab coat. Her work could wait. The latest issues of her favorite fashion magazines had just hit the shelves of the local bookstore, she remembered, and one of them contained a special feature on the new line of Fusae handbags. Light reading at a sundrenched café seemed like a nice way to spend the morning.

Flicking the lab's fluorescent light switch off, Shiho smiled. "Sorry to keep you waiting."


	14. File Fourteen: Sonata

**Title:** File Fourteen: Sonata  
**Author:** RanMouri82  
**Word Count:** 790  
**Rating:** PG  
**Disclaimer:** Aoyama created this enormous cast of characters. I just mess with them.  
**Spoilers: **Reference to File 67  
**Notes: **Now Conan understood what his mother meant. It was a kind of music.

_File Fourteen: Sonata_

A weary trio stumbled through the front door of the Kudou home as silver moonlight tried in vain to soothe it. The indoor air was cooler than the muggy summer heat, but offered little relief. Conan shuffled his feet, urged onward by Ran, and Shin'ichi locked the door behind them to shut out the buzzing cicadas' song.

As Conan struggled to keep his eyes open, he heard his mother murmur something about tucking him in, but what caught his wavering attention was the way his father nodded and walked straight to the study. Conan had never seen that sorrowful look on his face before. As Ran nudged the small of his back and prodded him to keep climbing the stairs to his room, Conan thought he saw Shin'ichi's shoulders slump like they were carrying a heavy pack.

"Mommy?" Conan asked, after drowsily tugging on his pajamas once they were in his bedroom. "What's a sonata?"

"What?" Ran halted in the middle of turning down his covers, startled.

"Sonata. I thought it was some kind of music," said Conan, settling into bed, "but Daddy mumbled it when he came out after solving the case. Is it something the police do?"

Ran brushed the hair out of Conan's face and gave him a sad smile. "No, you're right, it's music. The word 'sonata' means that it's played by instruments, not sung by people. Lots of classical musicians wrote sonatas."

"Huh? Then why did Daddy say it?" Conan propped up on his elbow.

Ran hesitated, but then sat on the bed and said, "I think this case reminded him of something."

"Something sad?"

"Mm hmm."

"Why's that?" Conan said, sitting up. "He solved the murder, right?"

"Right, but a person took lives. Not even justice can undo that," Ran said. Her shirt and slacks were a bit rumpled at this late hour, but she had agreed to let Conan wait outside the Toto Symphony Hall when he begged since, despite it being far past his bedtime, he was still on summer vacation. He loved watching his father work, even from a distance. Often, tales of daring rescues and the strangest tricks would follow, but not tonight. "Your father wishes he could've saved the murderer."

"He couldn't?" Conan asked, blinking with some confusion.

"I don't think so," Ran said, shaking her head. "Nobody can do everything."

That was a lot for the sleepy boy to think about, since to him, the great detective Kudou Shin'ichi could do anything, even things other people said were impossible. After Ran eased him back onto his pillow, pulled the thin blanket to his chin, and kissed his forehead, he asked, "Are you going to tell Daddy that? Maybe it'll make him feel better."

"Maybe I will," Ran said, smiling softly. A strange look crossed her face, a glint of mystery, as she left the room.

Reaching his hands behind his head, however, Conan soon found himself so full of these thoughts that he just had to see what his mother planned to do. Creeping out of bed, he slipped past his door and peeked around the corner of the staircase. Ran had left the lights on, so Conan figured she went downstairs. The boy did not have long to wait, since less than a minute passed before Ran carried a tray of chilled barley tea from the kitchen and walked in the direction of the study. Nodding at his new mission, Conan followed.

Once he made his way to the study door, he peered through the crack Ran had left open. As usual, the flatscreen desktop computer on the far, oak desk was glowing with life, and Shin'ichi sat in front of it, clutching a manila folder full of fastened paper in his hand. But this time, Shin'ichi sank his chin onto his other hand and stared at nothing. Then, hearing the gentle tap of metal and glass, Conan spied Ran setting the tray on the opposite desk. Neither spouse spoke a word to the other.

Now Conan was confused. _Aren't you going to tell him, Mommy?_

His answer came when Ran turned around, took slow, hushed steps across the room, and stopped behind Shin'ichi's swivel chair. Then, she bent low, circled her arms loosely in front of his chest and, letting her hair spill onto his neck, rested her head on his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she said nothing. A moment later, Shin'ichi quirked a small smile and touched her hand.

Conan grinned, too. He usually stuck out his tongue and made a yucky face when he caught his parents being lovey-dovey, but he did not mind at all this time. This time, he understood what his mother meant. Maybe this was a kind of sonata, too.


End file.
